


The Start (Fringe AU)

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek as Olivia Dunham, Fringe episode Season 1: Episode 1, M/M, Noah as Walter Bishop, References to Fringe (TV), Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Stiles as Peter Bishop, fringe au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: A teen wolf version of Fringe (The TV series)*After FBI Agent Derek Hale's partner (And secret girlfriend) gets infected by an unknown substance that causes her skin to become transparent, his search for answers leads to a one Dr. Noah Stilinski. A former scientist in a mental institution. To get Dr. Stilinski out, Derek has to find the one person he who can help him and maybe save his partner: Stiles Stilinski... Noah's estrange son.He has no idea how this one case will change his life... forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was re-watched fringe and again, I thought Stiles and Derek. I started writing one chapter and it soon turned into this long one-shot.
> 
> The characters and the roles they play are as followed:
> 
> Derek Hale as Olivia Dunham
> 
> Stiles Stilinski as Peter Hale
> 
> Dr. Walter Bishop as Noah Stilinski
> 
> Jennifer Blake as John Scott
> 
> Chris Argent as Philip Broyles
> 
> Erica Reyes as Charlie Francis
> 
> Lydia Martin as Astrid Farnsworth
> 
> Natalie Martin as Nina Sharp
> 
>  
> 
> Dialogue I took mostly from Fringe (The Scientific stuff especially because I know nothing about those things) and to be honest, the script was so perfectly done I felt weird changing everything. I did change some wording to be more in character with Teen Wolf characters.

As Agent Derek Hale stands over the translucent body of the woman he loves, he’s stomach turns, his heart pains and aches. He wants to breathe, but with every small gasp he tries to take, his heart hurts even more, as if his body is trying to tell him that the longer he lives… the more it will hurt.

“You were very luck today, Agent Hale… Your wounds could have easily been much more server… Agent Blake wasn't as fortunate.” The doctor’s voice rings through his head.

Derek swallows, grateful for the blue surgical mask over his mouth. He takes a step closer, his legs feeling like lead.

“While she survived the initial blast… Agent Blake was exposed to some synthetic chemical compounds, work that was done in lab you found. She’s not contagious but until we understand more, it’s better not to introduce any additional contaminants.”

The long blue paper gown, the head net, the goggles, the gloves, everything feels tighter. He wants to rip everything off. He wants to reach out and touch her.

Slowly, Derek runs his eyes over her body, remember how gorgeous and beautiful her skin has been just this morning. How soft, and supple under his hands it was, the tingling brushes of the tips of her silky hair against his forearms as he held onto her waist while she moved on top of him…

Now… her skin looks alien-like, some parts burned from the explosion. She looks dead… She should be dead but the small twitch from her chin and the faint movement of her throat tells him otherwise.

“We haven’t been able to identify the substance that’s effecting her. The CDC has sent in specialists but… Well, they’ve never seen anything like what’s happening here. We’ve put Agent Blake in a drug inducted coma… Her body temperature has been lowered significantly to try and slow the progress.

His eye burns and he feels the traitorous tear run down his cheek, disappearing behind the surgical mask.

“I’m sorry, Agent Hale…”

 

** \----------------------------------- **

 

_“Derek?”_

_Derek turns around, taking in the way Jennifer ducks her head slightly, pressing her skin into her thick black scarf. Her cheeks are red, flushed from the icy wind, against her pale skin, her dark chocolate locks blows across her face as she stares up at him._

_“What?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips._

_“In the motel… When we were,” A blush forms on her cheeks when Derek smirks at her. “You… you said that you love me.”_

_Derek licks his lips and nods._

_“Are we gonna talk about it?” She asks, her boots scrunching against the snow as she takes a step closer._

_“What’s there to talk about? I love you, whether you said it back or not… Doesn’t change anything.”_

_Jen nods, moving closer. “I know… And I know that you’ve been struggling to let me in and back there when you said it, I just—I was shocked.”_

_Derek nods and smiles at her. “I know, Jen. Don’t worry about, okay?”_

_Jennifer smiles, closing the small distance between them with two more steps. She looks up at him, her dark brown eyes holds mystery and content, all in one. “I was so shocked that… I didn’t get to say that, I love you too.”_

_A smile blossoms on Derek’s lips as he leans down, moving his gloved hand to cup her face, pressing his lips softly against hers. He can feel her smile against the kiss and he can’t help return it._

_“Come on,” She says, taking a small step back, the wide smile remaining on her lips. “Let’s be badass and go dumpster diving together.”_

_“Oh, and here I thought you didn’t know how to plan dates.” Derek jokes._

 

A gasp leaves his mouth as Derek springs up from the couch. He’s heart pounds against his chest and he can feel the small trail of sweat running down his temple. Letting out a sigh, Derek runs his fingers through his hair and over his face, rubbing the sleepy feeling away.

Looking up, he looks down at the coffee table, where all the files and all the research he has collected lay.

All his research has given him irrelevant information, nothing that would give him a lead.

_**Tissue Damage.** _

Nothing!

There has to be something.

Derek squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his mind to stay clear.

Jen has Tissue Damage and Tissue Hardening… She is suffering from… both.

“Wait.” Derek mutters, leaning forward to the Inter-Office Database.

_**Tissue Hardening.** _

A web page comes up, linking an article about a scientist.

_**Dissolve + Flesh.** _

Another web page…

Derek looks at the man, who wrote the paper. His eyes falls down to the name.

“Dr. Noah Stilinski.” Derek whispers.

 

*

 

Derek runs up the stairs, taking two at a time. The folder holding all the information he has gathering clutched in his right hand. When he reaches the top he can see the back of the Colonel’s head. Taking in a deep breathe to regulate he’s breathing, Derek walks into the room.

“Special Agent Argent.”

Derek clenches his jaw when the man looks up for a brief moment before returning to the file before him.

Pushing down his anger, even if he knows it is understandable and expected, he continues. “I found a connection been the Hamburg Flight and what’s happened to Agent Blake.”

Argent pauses when Derek’s finished, dropping the pen in his hand before slowly turning around.

Derek hands over the file. “He’s name is Noah Stilinski. He’s a scientific researcher from Cambridge, born in ’46. Harvard-educated, post-grad at Oxford and MIT. Look at the experiments he was doing in the ‘70’s. I believe that Dr. Stilinski might have information that might tell us what happened aboard that plane and save Blake’s life.”

Argent looks up from the. “It says the guy has been at St. Claire’s for 17 years.”

Derek nods. “Yes, an assistant was killed in his lab. Rumors of Dr. Stilinski using humans as guinea pigs. He was charged with manslaughter but deemed mentally unfit to stand trail.”

“Why are you so sure Stilinski is worth our time?”

“Why are you so sure he isn’t?”

Argent sighs. “Listen, Hale. You and I have history---“

“Sir, I have nothing to apologize for that I already haven’t. If our past, is affecting your opinion on the way I do my job—“

Argent stands up. “Yes. It does.”

Derek swallows down the lump in his throat.

“A sting operation that went south, killed three agents. I remember the report and I know there was time to evacuate before lives were lost.”

“Sir, I did what I could.”

“You’re call costed the lives of three people.” Argent states, his icy blue eyes glaring into Derek’s.

“My call was the right on--.”

“And sadly, what happened six years ago is not tonight’s business. Look, D.C. has tasked me to make sure that our reaction to Flight 627 is beyond reproach. Now,” Argent turns around to looks down at the file. “It says here that in 1991 the glorious state of Massachusetts’ forbade Dr. Stilinski from having any visitors, with the exception of immediate family.”

Derek licks his lips in frustration.

“Now, from where I sit,” Argent continues. “Barging into a mental institution waving the Patriot Act, which is what you’d need, and demands face time with some old lab rat, who you think _might_ be behind the most terrifying terror I can imagine--”

Derek’s frustration boils over. “Sir, I am coming to you with a solid lead and you’re person resentment—“

“Hale, you are wasting your breathe and my time!” Argent speaks over him loudly. “Do you understand ‘immediate family’?”

Silence falls over them.

“If you want to question Dr. Stilinski, you go out and find his next of kin, and have them escort you in. Talk to Stilinski, uncover something substantial, and I will have your back. Until then, I am not so convinced. Now, can you handle that?”

Derek swallows, knowing that what he just got is the best that he will get from Argent.

“He does have a son.” Derek informs Argent.

“Is his son local too?”

“Not exactly…”

 

*

Derek gets out of the chopper, the loud engine and swishing, the sound of the Rotor cutting through the air, makes him wince.

The hot dry air of Baghdad, Iraq, burns his nose but it’s nothing Derek isn’t use to.

Looking around, Derek finds the entrance where he is sure he would be able to get cell service.

As he walks away, he pulls out his cell phone, getting a reasonable distance before calling Erica.

“Hey, Erica. Any updates?” Derek asks, pulling out the address she have him.

“No, from the information I got, he should still be there.” “Okay, thanks.”

“So,” Erica asks and Derek could almost see her leaning back into her chair. “This kid really Stilinski’s son?”

“Yeah. His name is Mieczysław Stilinski. Goes by 'Stiles'.”

“Geez.” Erica comments.

Derek smiles. “Yeah, I know. Guy’s a high school dropout, IQ at 190, which is 50 points north of genius. Misfit. Nomad. Hasn’t kept a job longer than two months. He’s been a wild land fireman, cargo pilot and briefly, a college chemistry professor. He falsified a degree from MIT and even managed to get a few papers published before he was found out.”

“Sounds like a massive pain in the ass.” Erica adds.

 

*

 

When Derek arrives at the Hotel, he walks into the lobby, checking out every face he walks by, looking for the baby faced 26 year old, the kind of kid that would stand out in a place like this. As he reaches a staircase, he catches sight of pale skin.

Stopping, he narrows his eyes at the man jogging down the steps, with a light air around him. He takes in the long, spiked up hair, the jeans paired with a dark shirt and dark jacket. When he reaches the bottom, Derek feels relief wash over him.

The man turns around, heading right towards him. Derek quickens up his pace, stopping right before him.

“Stiles Stilinski?” Derek asks, even though he’s already reaching out his hand for a shake. “I’m Derek Hale, I’m with the FBI.”

The look of appreciate that Stiles gives him is not expected. He also wasn’t expecting the matured looking man in front of him. Gone in the lanky figure from the pictures Derek has collected and in it’s place is a lean, slightly muscular one.

Stiles runs his eyes over Derek. “Okay?”

Derek ignores the action. “Have you heard of Flight 627?”

Stiles raises his eye brows. “And if I have?”

“Well, you may be able to help us with that.”

A grin forms on across Stiles’ face and he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry, I think you have the wrong guy.”

He tries to move pass Derek but Derek steps to the right, blocking his way. “Really? How many ‘Stiles’ are there in this world?”

Stiles smirks, looking at Derek. “Ever heard of One Direction?”

Derek takes a step back, when Stiles eyes flicker down to their chests that are almost touching.

“Your father is Noah Stilinski.”

The easy going smirk on his face drops just a bit but he brings it right up. “What did the old man do now?”

Derek narrows his eyes at the hint of resentment in the other man’s voice. “Nothing. The FBI would like to speak to him, but due to his current status, only you can provide us access.”

“What the hell could he possibly do for you guys?” Stiles asks, the smirk now entirely gone. “And what exactly, _Agent_ , do you want me to do? Hop of a plane with you back to Massachusetts?” He raises his eye brows at Derek. “I just got here!”

“I can have you on a return flight here in four days.” Derek offers. “But first---“

“Look, let me save you the time on going through all that trouble. I would rather like to stay here in Iraq, where I might get blown up, that’s how much I would like to see my father.”

Stiles shoves past him, knocking his shoulder against Derek’s as he does so. “Stiles.” Derek calls turning around. “I am asking you, please from one human being to another, to please reconsider.”

Stiles stops, his shoulders sagging just a bit before he turns to look over at Derek.

“Your father may be able to save someone who’s dying… Someone who I care about a lot.”

Stiles stares at him, his eyes flickering back and forth. Derek holds his breath, watching and waiting as Stiles considers his offer.

Finally, Stiles shakes his head and sighs as he turns around. “Baby, we all care about someone who’s dying. I can’t help you with that, I’m sorry.”

Derek watches with anger as Stiles turns around.

The next words flow out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“I know why you’re here.”

Stiles stops and spins around, frowning at Derek.

“I have your file.”

Stiles scoffs. “And what file would that be?”

Derek's lips twist when he catches the way Stiles fiddles with his fingers.

“The one the FBI would say doesn’t exist…”

Stiles laughs, his eyes flickering around, looking at everyone as he moves closer.

“And it has everything.” Derek continues to bait him. “Where you’ve been. What you’re running from. And what you _need_ , while you are here.” He finishes off.

Standing in front of him, Stiles runs his eyes over Derek’s face one more, gone it the look of appreciation and in its place is a look of suspicion.

“So either you come with me…”

Stiles looks around them, his eyes running over everything behind Derek.

“Or I let certain people know your whereabouts.”

With one last scan around them, Stiles turns to look at Derek with a charming smirk.

“When do we leave?"

 

*

 

After explaining to Stiles as much as he could about the work Noah Stilinski truly did while had been at Harvard, he sat, waiting, answering every question that spewed from the boy’s mouth and Derek uses the word spew because once Stiles found out, he didn’t shut up. He asked question after question after question. Not believing that the ‘self-absorbed, twisted, abusive, brilliant, myopic bastard’ worked on military experimental programs. Also that said ‘bastard’ was apparently ‘Massachusetts very own Friendly-Neighborhood-Frankenstein’.

Soon they finds themselves on the road, leading to St. Claire’s Mental Hospital.

As the metal barred door slides open, Derek turns his head to glance behind him at a twitchy Stiles. The brunette brushes up against Derek every now and then, not being able to keep still for more than a second.

Distance screams and cackling echoes through the walls from other patients and the closer they get to Noah’s door, the slower Stiles moves, soon falling behind Derek completely.

“Huh, you know what?” Stiles calls out to Derek, causing the FBI Agent to stop and turn around. “Why don’t I stay here? You’re the one who wanted to see the crazy bastard not me, so… We cool?”

As much as he tries to play it off casually in a nonchalant manner, Derek can see the uneasiness in his eyes. The way he looks around him, rubs his hands together before shoving it into his coat, the way he swallows every now and then.

Having sympathy, Derek nods, following the nurse towards Dr. Stilinski’s room.

The door opens heavily, the metal hinges whining as it swings open, revealing a figure in a dull grey jumpsuit, hunched over a desk.

“Dr. Stilinski,” The nurses calls out. “It’s your lucky day. You have a visitor.”

Derek waits, watching as the man straightens up before slowly turning, looking over his shoulder. A man with a shaggy beard and messy long hair, a few wrinkles scattered over his face, heavy dark bags under his eyes, turns to face him.

“I knew someone would come.” He says as a greeting. “Eventually.”

The nurse guides them to the visiting room, holding onto Dr. Stilinski’s arm. The room is vacant, with only Derek, Dr. Stilinski, a cleaner and another man in it. Taking a seat, Derek watching as Dr. Stilinski looks around, resting his elbow on the table, his fingers scratching his rough beard, before wiggling around, his thumb pressing against every fingertip on his left hand.

Derek starts explaining the incident on the plane, slowly and carefully to the man, watching as his nods frantically, looks around, his fingers twitching. When he’s done, he waits for the man to respond but Dr. Stilinski just nods on, as if Derek hadn’t stopped speaking at all. When it becomes clear that the man is lost in his own head, Derek speaks up.

“Dr. Stilinski?” He asks.

The man does not answer him.

Derek ducks his head to try and meet his eyes. “Dr. Stilinski?” He asks again, using a firmer tone.

Dr. Stilinski looks at him, opening his mouth a few times as if he is struggling to find the right words. “And- And you said this was—this was—When- When did this happen?”

“The incident on the plane happened four days ago.” Derek repeats calmly. “Agent Blake was injured the next day.”

Dr. Stilinski nods, already speaking over Derek. “The dermis already indurated?” He asks frantically, using his hands to emphasis as he stutters on. “Translucent? Muscular tissue visible?”

“On Blake? Do you mean, can you see through her skin? Yes.”

“Oh, that’s not good.” Dr. Stilinski comments sadly, his eyes flickering down to the table as he gets lost in his own head once more. “To see through the skin, it’s, uh—it’s tricky. It’s--- It’s advanced like that---”

“What’s happening to her?” Derek asks. “Can it be reversed?”

He waits but Dr. Stilinski falls silent. Derek holds his breathe, waiting for the man to think through, maybe he can come up with some way to help Jen, heal her. The man is a genius after all, it would be understandable that his brain works faster that he sometimes loses touch with what’s happening around him but if there is a chance that—

Dr. Stilinski sighs sadly, his face becomes dejected.

Worry claws at Derek’s gut.

“What? What is it?”

Dr. Stilinski leans closer, his eyes reflecting pain and sadness. “They… They have this horrible… pudding here.”

_What?_

“Butterscotch pudding on Mondays… It’s dreadful.”

Anger and frustration rushes through Derek as he pulls away from the scientist, ignoring his pained eyes. Derek clenches his jaw, forcing his face to remain calm, to remain professional.

“It’s Thursday.” Derek states, looks up at man.

Dr. Stilinski gasps, his eyes widening in shock. “Oh?!” He sighs, letting out a joyous chuckles. “Oh, that is, that’s fantastic news.”

He then smiles at Derek, with expectant eyes, like a child waiting for a parent’s reassurance. Derek Hale forces a smile on his faces, nodding even if on the inside, any hope that he had that Dr. Stilinski would have been able to help Jen slowly dies inside him.

“It can be reversed.”

Derek’s eyes snap over to the doctor. “What?”

“What—What happened to your colleague… Years ago, I-I worked with lab animals. And—And some of them were, were afflicted but were saved.”

Eagerly, Derek leans forward. “So do you remember what to do?”

Instead of answering, Dr. Stilinski reaches out for the plastic cup of water, taking small, loud sips. His hands are shaking, causing some water to spill out of the cup and onto his beard. Derek bits his tongue, feeling his teeth sink painfully onto the muscle as Dr. Stilinski finishes off, taking a napkin to wipe his mouth and then the surface of the table.

“This place…” Dr. Stilinski starts again. “This place, their, their choice of therapies has… C-C-C-“ He stutters, grumbling under his breathe.

The man looks away once more.

“Dr. Stilinski?” Derek calls, trying to get the man attention before he drifts off topic again.

Dr. Stilinski slowly looks up at him, his blue eyes icy cold, boring into Derek’s with calculating look.

“You came here today with my son.”

Realization washes over Derek when the words leaves the man’s mouth and even if he has just met the guy, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the doctor is going.

“I’m not allowed visitors, you see, except immediate family… And unless the order’s been lifted… Then it’s a simple if-then formula. _If_ you are here, _then_ so is he.”

The man pauses, and the cold calculating look vanishes in an instant and the small, sad look man returns.

“I-I would very much like to see him… So much.”

Nodding, Derek glares as he stands up from the chair, turning around to head towards the door where he knows Stiles Stilinski is waiting. And sure enough, there he is, standing by one of the windows, looking out with a displeasured frown on his face.

Hearing, Derek approach Stiles turns to look at him.

“He asked for you.”

Stiles stares at for a moment before letting out a sigh/laugh, shaking his head as he does so. “Wow…” He gives Derek a sarcastic look. “Thanks baby, just what I wanted. To see that man today. Truly, I really appreciate it.”

Derek glares. “I didn’t tell him you were here. And call me baby one more time and see what happens.”

Stiles just stares at him, meeting his glare head on as he walks past Derek towards the room. The Special Agent sighs, thinking of Jennifer and why he is doing all this before he turns around and follows Stiles in.

Stiles Stilinski enters the room with his shoulders set back, his hands stuffed in his pocket. As he walks closer to his father, Noah Stilinski’s eyes widen, taking in his son. Stiles stops and Derek watches as the 26 year old takes in a deep breath before walking further into the room, closer to his father.

“Hello, Noah.” He greets coldly.

Dr. Stilinski doesn’t appear to be affected by the fact that his son addressed him by his first name, instead the frantic scientist blinks a couple of times.

And then stutters out.

“You’ve gotten fat.”

Stiles glares. “I’ve gotten fat?” He repeats. “Really? That’s the first words that comes out of your mouth after not seeing me for years? Really? That’s perfect, fan-freakin’-tastic.”

Dr. Stilinski shakes his head. “No- No, as a boy, you were always so thin.”

“Yes, I was until the summer before high school.”

Dr. Stilinski jumps up from his seat and Derek takes a cautious steps closer to them, his eyes tracking Stilinski’s every move as the man rushes over to his son.

“Not that I’d expect you to remember that.” Stiles adds bitterly.

“May I see?” The Doctor asks, before grabbing his son’s face, pressing his thumbs on either side of his right eyes, pulling the lids apart.

“WHAT ARE YOU—“ Stiles shouts, grabbing onto Noah’s hands. “Get your hands off me!”

Dr Stilinski doesn't react to his son’s violent shove. “You’re pupils are good. They’re good. Thank goodness.”

Suddenly he spins around. “How advanced is your colleague’s condition?”

It takes a second for Derek that register Noah is talking to him.

“Which is something I-I- Uh-Uh-“ He continues on, stuttering and struggling with his words. “I mean, I-I’m unable to deduce without a first-hand examination!”

He turn to them, looking right at Derek. “I must see Ms Blake myself… Which I am- I am unable to do…” He sits down on a chair. “While under present law… un-unless signed out by a legal guardian, who must be once again, a relative.”

Stiles spins around, looking at Derek. “You can forget it!”

Derek stares at him.

“Are you out of your--?”

“He’ll do it.” Derek cuts him off, looking at Dr. Stilinski.

“Are you deaf?” Stiles shouts.

Derek returns his glare on Stiles. “One phone call.” He threatens. “That’s all it takes. Do you want me to make it? Because I’ve got my phone in my pocket.”

Stiles’ jaw flexes as he silently glares at the FBI Agent.

“Now,” Derek reaches in and pulls it out. “It’s out of my pocket.”

The two men stare at each other, their glares filled with anger. Stiles shakes his head, walking closer to Derek, only there is no flirty look or charm in his eyes, only hatred.

“You wanted the man, now you have him.” He gets right into Derek’s face, their height making it so that Stiles’ eyes has to flicker up to a bit to meet Derek’s. “Which falls under the category of, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ _Baby_.”

Stiles holds the glare for a second before walks past Derek, knocking his shoulder out of the way as he does so.

 

*

 

On the car ride back to the hospital, Derek can’t help but glance at Dr. Stilinski through the review-mirror. Gone is the dry, shaggy beard and messy hair and in its place is a clean shaven face, a semi-neatly trimmed mob of grey hair.

To say the new look makes Dr. Stilinski look less crazy is an understatement. To anyone walking by, he looks like a regular old guy.

Derek glances over to Stiles, who sits quietly in the passenger seat, biting his thumb-nail that is already too short, shifting in his seat, turning to look out the window to the snowy view. He hasn’t said a word to his father since they got him out.

“Dr. Stilinski,” Derek breaks the silence. “To your knowledge, did anyone else ever have access to your work?”

“Well, uh, the assistants had bits and pieces,” Dr. Stilinski croaks out. “God, I suppose,” He jokes. “But I suppose the only one who really knew what I was doing was Alan.”

Derek frowns, not remember any one by the name ‘Alan’ that was associated with Dr. Stilinski.

“Who?” He asks. “Alan, Alan Deaton. He and I shared a lab together.”

That gets both Derek and Stiles attention.

“Alan Deaton?” Derek repeats just to make sure he heard correctly.

Meanwhile, Stiles turns around completely in his seat to look at his father. “You shared a lab with the founder of Advanced Division?”

Dr. Stilinski looks at him son. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is, Advanced Division.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Stiles says sarcastically. “Just this tiny little company.” He shakes his head in wonder. “That is just fantastic. One guy, becomes one of the wealthiest men on the plant. The other guy becomes an institutionalized psychopath.”

“Oh!” Dr. Stilinski exclaims suddenly in shock.

“What?” Derek asks, looking into the review mirror at a hunched over Dr. Stilinski. “What happened?”

“I just pissed myself.”

Derek and Stiles turns around for a brief moment to glance to the back.

“Awesome.” Stiles comments, with a sarcastic smile.

“It’s just a squirt.” Dr. Stilinski informs them.

At the hospital, Derek and the Stilinski’s make their way to Jen’s room, getting dressed and sanitized. Just as they are about to enter, Derek sees Erica standing outside.

He looks over to Dr. Stilinski. “I’ll just be a minute.”

The doctor nods, not even looking at Derek. Stiles locks eyes with Derek and after a heavy sigh and a long eye roll, the brunette nods.

Derek turns and makes his way out to meet up with Erica. “Hey.”

Erica spins around, ending her phone call. “Hey, I came as soon as I could. How’s Jennifer?”

Erica is the only one who knows the true nature of Derek and Jennifer’s relationship, and she found out by accident, or maybe it was just observation, nothing can get past her.

“It’s worse.” Derek tells her. “CDC says the flight was caused by a synthetic compound, which is like saying rain is caused by a wet compound. They’ve been running some tests on her but haven’t come back with anything.”

Erica nods, looking towards the directing of the room, leading Jen’s room. “What about Stilinski?”

“Left to right? Insane. And close to getting on my last nerve.” Derek sighs. “But he is also my only hope.”

Derek looks around the room, trying to make sure there is not any unwanted ears listening in before he takes a step closer to Erica. “Listen, I need to question Alan Deaton. Could you set that up for me?”

“Alan Deaton?” Erica ask in the same shocked toned both Stiles and Derek used when they heard the name for the first time too. “Advanced Division, Alan Deaton?”

Derek nods. “He and Stilinski… they use to share a lab.”

“Are you serious?”

At Derek’s looks, Erica shakes her head in shock before assuring him that she would try her best before walking away. Derek stands there for a few seconds, trying to gather up the nerves to walk towards the room. As he enters he is greeted by a red-head who the FBI has sent to help assist in any way she can.

Entering the plastic covered room with Stiles and Dr. Stilinski, Derek’s eyes lands on Jen’s body, now almost completely translucent. It sickens him when he notices that unlike before, he can now almost see insider her. He can see her muscles, her blue veins, the outline of her jaw bone and teeth.

The only thing that makes the sight bearable, is the beeping of the heart rate monitor and the deep steady breathes from Jen.

He opens his mouth to address Dr. Stilinski only to find the man staring up into one of the ceiling light, seemingly fascinated by the buzzing it emits.

“Dr. Stilinski?”

The man turns around at the sound of his voice, and takes to stare at him. He looks confused for second and then his gaze turns calculating as if Derek is an unknown specimen that he wants to examine.

As soon as the look appears, it vanishes and Dr. Stilinski rests his eyes on Jen.

He walks closer to her, holding his hand to chest as if he is afraid to touch her. Running his eyes over every inch of her body.

“Is there Ginger Ale? I need Ginger Ale. I haven’t had some in a long time… I miss it.”

Derek swallow down his anger, turning as calmly as possible to the assisting Agent.

“Can we please get some ginger ale for the doctor, Agent Martin?”

The red-head nods before walking away.

Derek looks at Stiles standing next to him, noticing the way he is glaring at his father. Suddenly his eyes widens and he dashes towards his father.

“Whoa! Stop. Right now. Stop!”

He reaches out, gripping onto his father’s wrists. Derek looks down, seeing the scalpel clutched in Dr. Stilinski’s hand.

“Does this not concern you?” Stiles asks, turning his eyes on Derek.

Derek swallows, looking between a shocked Stiles and an urging Dr. Stilinski, both men staring at him, trying to get their point across. Derek looks down at Jen’s body before looking back up again.

“Let go of him.”

Stiles sighs, shaking his head and roughly lets go, causing Dr. Stilinski to stumble forward, making it clear that Stiles grip was the only thing stopping him. Once free, the doctor leans over Jen’s body, and with the scalpel, cuts a small piece of hardening tissue of Jen’s arm.

“Petri dish.” He says to Stiles. “Quick. Please.”

Stiles looks over at Derek for a second before doing as his father said.

“I need to take this to my lab right away.” Dr. Stilinski says.

“Your what?” He ask.

“Kresge Building basement, Harvard.” The doctor continues on, walking away from them with the petri dish. “We should leave. I have my sample.”

“Your lab was shut down after you left.” Derek informs him.

Dr. Stilinski freezes right outside the plastic exit. He turns to looks over at Derek with confused expression. “I’m sorry?”

“Wake up, Noah. It’s gone.” Stiles tell him.

Dr. Stilinski sighs and shakes his head. “No. No, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Noah, there is no lab.” Stiles says, his voice sounding almost sympathetic.

Suddenly, Dr. Stilinski charges towards Stiles in anger. “It’s a perfect—“

“Hey!” Stiles shouts, grabbing onto Dr. Stilinski when the man gets too close.

Dr. Stilinski spins around. “Damn you!” He shouts, smacking the petri dishes off another table. “Damn you!”

Stiles turns to Derek, his eyes dead serious. “We need to get him back immediately.”

But getting him back is last thing Derek plans on doing.

 

*

 

When Derek gets the approval from Colonel Argent for Stilinski’s lab, having to listen to him call Derek out on his relationship with Jennifer, implying he knows they have a more than professional relationship, Derek wastes no time to get them all there. He ignores Stiles’ disapproving look, reminding himself that they need Stilinski, they need this man if there is any hope in helping Jen.

Along with them is Agent Martin, the red head from before. After getting briefed on the way on what they are dealing with, the red-head face turns hard and serious as she takes in everything that is being told to her.

“Dr. Stilinski, I have ordered a standard forensics work package.” Derek calls out as he watches Dr. Stilinski rush around, pulling the dusty white covers off all the equipment, walking around the lab he is so clearly familiar with. “Is there anything else you need?”

Dr. Stilinski turns around. “Uh, optical coherence tomograph, for flesh study. Two thousand pounds of silicon. At least five anonymous blood samples from volunteer donors.” He continues to list on, waking around the lab, checking every nook and cranny. “A micro-organism detector, NASA-grade, of course.”

He stops and turns to look at them all. “There’s still NASA, yes?”

Derek nods. “Yes.”

He looks over to Stiles who has been silently helping taking off all the covers, they lock eyes for a second before Derek looks away at Dr. Stilinski voice.

“Oh! She’s still here! Oh, this tank was the best.” He praises, walking over to a large object covered in dirty white cover’s, patting in lovingly. “And- And a two year old Bos Taurus.” He adds.

“Excuse me?” Agent Martin asks, who has been taking notes of everything Dr. Stilinski had been listing.

“A cow?” Stiles asks, turning to look at Derek with a sarcastic smile. “He wants a cow.”

“Pure-bred, not cross-bred. This is important. Mature weight, 850 pounds. Internal fat average, 2.37.” Dr. Stilinski shouts, moving to pull more covers off with Agent Martin’s help.

Derek walks closer to Stiles. “Is he serious?”

Stiles pulls at the covers, rolling it up. “Genetically, humans and cows are separated by only a couple lines of DNA,” He says casually, tossing Derek the covers he had pulled off. “So, it’s an ethical test subject.”

Derek nods, narrows his eyes at Stiles. “Where did you learn that? MIT?” He asks, helping Stiles pulls some chairs off the desk they had just uncovered.

“No, actually.” Stiles says, he moving to grab more covers. “I picked that up reading books. You should try it sometime, it’s awesome.”

They had moved closer to each other, pulling at the covers. Stiles stops before him, his sarcastic smile firmly in place as he looks at Derek, not even shying away from the close proximity. Derek holds they stares for a second, recognizes the look as the one Stiles had first given him when they met.

Turning away, he looks at Agent Martin. “Get him the cow.”

“Fantastic! Thank you!” Dr Stilinski exclaims as he walks away, leaving Agent Martin no other choice but to follow him. “Only thing better than a cow is a human. Unless you need milk. Then you really need a cow.”

And soon everything falls into place.

Dr. Stilinski starts working on the sample he has collected the moment he got what he needed, clearly eager to exam it. Derek retires to a dark area, far away from the noise, going over all the case files, trying to not compare the dead- completely see-through bodies in the photos with Jen’s. Agent Martin helps where she can getting Noah anything he needs, not once complaining.

As a photo of an Insulin Dosing Pen with the pen and the word ‘Diabetic’ circled, comes up, Derek frowns at stares at it.

Footsteps pulls him away from the photo and he looks up.

“Coffee?” Stiles asks, holding up two cups.

Derek takes it gratefully. “Thanks.”

“So, tell me,” Stiles starts, moving to sit down next to Derek on the bench. “What exactly did that super-secret file say? About yours truly. How bad was it?”

Derek takes a long pull of his coffee, trying to buy time. “Uh, I am not at liberty to say.”

Stiles laughs, “Well, why don’t you go ahead and liberate yourself, Captain America. I’m here now and I kinda feel like I deserve the truth, don’t you?”

Derek stares at him, watching with dread as the smile on Stiles’ face slowly drops, his brows begins to twitch into a frown when he takes in the look on Derek’s face.

“Are you serious?” He asks in shock. “There was no file, was there?”

Derek press his lips together and shakes his head. “I needed you back here.” He says as a means to explain himself.

Stiles jaw drops and his eyes widen. “So that was, what? You were bluffing?”

“I was desperate.” Derek explains.

“God,” Stiles groans. “What the hell? I’m usually good at reading people.”

Derek shrugs, “I could see you were in trouble. Anyone could.”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “So, I could have stayed there, in Iraq.” He laughs. “I could have stayed in the warm, crappy weather.”

“A car bomb went off this morning in Kirkuk.” Derek tells him. “You might just owe me a thank you.”

Stiles gives him a look. “Ha, that’s funny.” He laughs incredulously once more “Well, I own a lot of people, might as well add you on the list.”

“I figured.” Derek nods. “Mafia?”

Stiles laugh, taking a sip from his coffee. “A guy named Mad Dog.”

Derek frowns. “You owe money to guy nicknamed Mad Dog?”

“No,” Stiles says seriously, leaning forward. “I owe money to a guy named Mad Dog. He had it legally changed.”

Derek feels his lips tug up into a smile.

“And the thing is,” Stiles goes on. “I am not even a gambler. I mean, I never was, I just…” He trails off, his eyes locked once more onto Derek. He pauses for a beat before smiling almost sadly. “A couple of years ago, I went a bit crazy.”

“I thought you were a genius. You must have had a system.”

“Of course there was a system. The house was cheating.” Stiles says, taking a sip of his coffee with a grin. “But you try telling them that.”

He looks over to Derek with that same intense stare of his and this time, Derek welcomes it. He lets the small smile he had been trying to hide pull on his face as he reaches out for his coffee to take a drink too.

 

*

 

Soon Noah calls them back, by means of explaining where he had heard of the project and where he had done his experiments. Finding out that there is a way to reverse what had happened to Jen sends waves of relief washing over him.

Then, Noah goes on to explain that to make the counter-agent, he would need everything that was in the laboratory… The laboratory that blew Jen up… The laboratory that make her sick.

“How long does she have left?” Derek asks.

“Twenty-four hours.”

Derek stares at Dr. Stilinski, his continual explanation of how Jen will die, causes icy chills to run down The FBI Agent’s spine.

_Her brain will no longer be able to oxygenate itself…._

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you a less dangerous solution,” Dr. Stilinski says sympathetically.

“Less dangerous?” Derek repeats slowly.

Dr. Stilinski tilts his head and frowns. “Didn’t I mention it?”

“Whatever the hell you think you said, you didn’t.” Stiles shouts from where he sitting at one the many desks in the basement.

“The synaptic transfer system,” Dr. Stilinski says as if Stiles didn’t speak at all. “The sharing of dream state.”

Stiles frowns over at them and stands up, walking closer. Dr. Stilinski rounds the table, walking closer to Derek, his eyes boring into his.

“The human brain generates a quantifiable electric field. I posited that in 1976 that it is possible to synchronize the fields of two distinct minds to allow the sharing of information across the unconscious state, like a string between two tin cans.”

Stiles comes into view behinds Noah, looking at Derek with wide eyes. “Are you actually believing him?”

Derek looks away from him and over to Noah. “Are you telling me I can talk with Jennifer in a coma and she can tell what the suspect looks like?”

“It’s not an exact science.” Noah says softly.

“No, it’s not _even_ science.” Stiles comments, shaking his head.

“Have you done this before?” Derek asks Noah, his heart beat rising, the tightening in his gut loosening just a bit with each scientific word Dr. Stilinski breathes.

“I have used this technique to extract information from a corpse, once. You can do that if they haven’t been dead for six hours.”

“Right, because after six hours they’re _really_ dead! How come we have never heard of that! Maybe we should call every morgue out there and tell them they should hold of autopsy because the _dead_ guy isn’t _really_ dead.”

Derek glares at Stiles as Noah continues on.

“You could access his memories. Assuming there is no brain damage. Of course you would have to have an electromagnetic probe placed in the base of your skull whilst immersed without clothing in the old tank. And you’d be heavily drugged.”

As Noah walks away, Derek looks over to Stiles. The brunette has his eyes narrows and his shaking his head subtly, begging Derek not to listening to his father. Weighing the information, the results Dr. Stilinski has giving before, the kinds of research and experiments, the kinds of things he achieved…

“What kinds of drugs?” Derek asks.

Stiles gapes at him, throwing his head back to let out a loud and frustrated groan.

“A mix of Ketamine, Neurontin, Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.”

“Uh, that last on is LSD, by the way. You know, _Acid_!”

Noah turns around from where he had been wondering around to look at Derek. “It would take at least a few hours.” He looks over to Stiles, “I’d need your help to synthesize it. If it’s too much trouble.”

“Oh that sounds awesome!” Stiles remarks, walking up to Derek.

When he grabs his forearm, Derek’s head snaps away from Dr. Stilinski over to Stiles.

“This, is _insane_!” Stiles says to him. “The man who was just released form a mental institution want to give you a drug overdose, stick a rod into your head and then put you into a rusty tank of water, _naked_! Do you understand that?”

“No, I don’t want to do that. N-No, I’d rather not… I’m just saying I can.”

Derek looks over to Dr. Stilinski.

“Okay, Derek,” Stiles pulls his attention back. “Look, you are clearly under severe duress. You haven’t slept since Iraq and the woman you care about might die, okay I understand that! But you need to hear me when I tell you that that man over,” He points to Noah. “Will kill you!”

“You don’t understand the procedure.” Noah says slowly. Stiles turns to glare at him.

Taking a deep breath and bowing his head, Derek swallows down all the emotions that has cultivated up in his head while Noah and Stiles argued back and forth and looks up at Stiles. He knows there is a risk! He knows the danger but---

“Jennifer would do it for me.”

Stiles gapes at him in shock.

Derek turns around to look at Noah Stilinski. “Set it up. I’ll get DHS authorization to bring Jennifer in.”

Stiles scoff, a disbelieving smile forming on his lips. “This- This is insane!”

Derek turns to look him, glaring at him to shut up.

Stiles shakes his head at Derek. “You know what? Do what you want but when that man kills you, just know you knew the risks and followed him anyway.”

He shoves past Derek, taking off down the platform.

 

*

 

Derek stands in the lab, in nothing but briefs, staring down at Jen’s body. Everything from within is now visible and to see the muscles in her body, the bones of her rib cage, the blue veins connected around like roots inside her, makes him sick.

The only thing that shows she is still alive, is the beating heart Derek can see behind her rib cage.

She is getting worse. Not only that, Alan Deaton is out of country. Advanced Division is not telling him anything, meaning any new leads he has, anything that would help Noah to save Jennifer is drying up.

Deaton was his last hope… If Noah fails, Deaton is the only one who can help him… who can save Jen.

“You ready?”

Derek turns around to look at Lydia who puts away the small scooper back into the half-empty bag of salt she has been pouring into the tank of water. The red-head looks up at him, her eyes expression the obvious concern she feels, making Derek’s worry and nerves only increase.

Stiles walks up to him with a glare as he starts helping Noah put on the heart monitor patches, while the doctor injects an anesthetic into the back of his neck before something sharp pierces his neck.

Derek gasps in pain, his body slumps forward, falling right against a strong shoulder. An arm wraps around and him and guides him somewhere where he is slowly lowered down onto a bench.

As the white pain slowly dies, he looks down to see Stiles crouched before him, placing the monitoring patches against his chest.

He pauses for a second and Derek knows he is looking at the two bullet wounds he has in his left pec, where two letters are tattooed on him.

_A.A_

“I hope she’s worth it.” Stiles whispers to him.

Derek looks into his eyes, seeing the raw worry in them, the way they bounce back and forth as if to mentally tell Derek that he is making a mistake. Derek says nothing and Stiles nods before walking away, leaving Lydia to place two patches on the either side of his head and Noah to give him the last mix of drugs.

A hazy feeling washing over him, his legs seems to float without him controlling them. Cold water engulfs his calves and soon, his entire body. Looking up, Derek lean back into the water, seeing the two Stilinski men staring down at him, upside down by the tank’s opening.

“Agent Hale,” Noah Stilinski starts. “In case you don’t come back… I just wanted to say, before we do this… H-How much I appreciate what you’ve done. There are so many things you lose in a place like that. You lose being trusted. It’s stranger how important that is, once it’s gone.”

They step back and the last thing Derek sees is the sad brown eyes of Stiles Stilinski before everything fades…

 

*

 

Derek stands outside of the interrogation room, his green eyes glaring straight ahead. After everything they did.

After they found out who let the toxin loose on the flight, a man by the name of Matt Daehler, whose twin brother had been on the flight, to going to Advanced Division to see Natalie Martin, (Who he found of surprisingly was Lydia’s mother, who she hasn’t spoken to in years) who has taken over in Deaton’s absents.

To finding Matt, locating him and capturing him… He has nothing.

Because the man refuses to talk! He has said nothing in the hours he has been sitting in the interrogation room.

Derek walks away from the door, to find a quiet hallway where he leans back, letting out a breath, trying to calm himself down. He can’t lose hope now, he has come too far to give up. He raises his hand, running it over his face, trying to physically wipe away the exhaustion and the feeling of utter lose.

Something rushes past the hallway and Derek’s head snaps over just in time to see Stiles, who had assisted in capturing Daehler, walk into the interrogation room.

A scream erupts from the room and Derek runs to the room, ripping open the door to see Stiles holding onto Daehler’s cuffed hand, with his coffee cup raised over his head as the main withers in pain.

“Hey! No!” Derek moves to grab Stiles’ shoulder. “You can’t do that!”

“You can’t.” Stiles sneers, glaring at the man before them.

Daehler's face is still busted and bruised from where Stiles had punched him to stop him from leaving.

“I want the names of the chemicals. I’m gonna count to one…”

The man glares.

“One"

A scream breaks out through the room.

 

*

 

As Derek waits, watching as Noah, Stiles and Lydia rush around the lab, creating the antidote, making the necessary compounds. The boiling sounds, the pungent smell of chemicals, the sight of Jen’s body becomes all too much and Derek find himself walks out of the lab.

As he makes his way through the halls to the open spaced entry of the University. He finds a bench in the deserted place, taking a seat and letting his head falls down onto his hands.

Taking in slow deep breaths of cold air, Derek forces himself to calm down. Reminds himself that Stiles and Noah have it handled. With the two of them working together, Derek knows Jen will be healed soon.

“Hale.”

At the deep voice, Derek looks up to see Colonel Argent walking over to him in a long black coat and a briefcase in his left hand. The man walks over, taking a seat on the bench with a reasonable space between them.

“Sir.” Derek greets.

Argent clears his throat. “Has there been any progress?”

“Yeah. Stilinski says it will be a while but that it’s looking _auspicious_.” Derek says with a dry laugh. “That was his word.”

Argent says nothing, only staring at Derek with those icy blue eyes that use to freeze him to the core when he was a rookie. When all he wanted to do was work has hard as he could but Argent always seemed to be breathing down his neck.

Which was understandable, given who his partner was at the time.

“What?” Derek asks when the silence becomes too much.

Argent gives him an appraising look. “You have done some solid work, Hale: Locating Stilinski, getting him out, finding a way to get him to work with you. We’re impressed.”

Derek frowns. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Argent pauses. “What happened on that plane might be part of something more dangerous than just simple terrorism.”

“‘Simple’ terrorism?”

Argent reaches down for his briefcase, pulling out a file. “In the past nine months, there have been three dozen authenticated incidents like the Hamburg flight.”

Derek reaches out and takes the offered file.

“John Thompson, normal kid, went missing back in ’98, reappeared last month halfway around the world. Hadn’t aged a day. In the past few months, 46 other children who went missing that same year turn up. Same story.”

Argent pulls out a picture of what looks like a boat wreck, showing it to Derek.

“Local fisherman off the coast of Sri Lanka reports a low-flying plane emitting a high-pitched frequency that blows out all their windows. An hour later, same spot, an 8.7 subsurface earthquake creates a tsunami that kills 83, 000 people.”

Derek shakes his head in confusion. “So why are you telling me--?”

“This man: Patient in Lisbon who woke up after years in a coma, began writing. Just numbers. They turn out to be exact real-time coordinates of our carrier battle groups in the Pacific. Intel that’s classified above top secret.”

“How is that even possible?” Derek asks.

Argent turns just bit to look at him. “Come work for me. I’ll get you the clearance—“

Derek shakes his head. “No.” He pushes himself off the bench and walks away from Argent.

As Derek makes it way out of the building in the icy cold day, he hears Argent’s footsteps follow after him.

“Hale, there is more you need to hear,” He insists.

“You must not have heard me, I said no.”

The faster he tries to walk away, the more Argent catches up to him, the sounds of his footstep grating on Derek’s every nerve.

“They’re calling the events The Pattern.” Argent goes on. “As if someone’s experimenting, only the whole world is their lab.” He puts out a hand to stop Derek. “You’ve seen it with your very eyes. You know the damage is causes.”

Derek turns to glare at him. “Chris! I don’t want to know.”

Argent pauses at the use of his first name, along with Derek. It has been years, six years to be exact, since he had called him Chris…

“I don’t want to know anything, okay? I have a job already.”

“This is more important job. Anything thing, anybody you need or want, you can have.”

“I like my job.” Derek says loudly. “And the woman I do it with, which you seem to have deduced on your own.”

A cold expression crosses Argent’s face. “Look around you. All these people, going about their lives with no idea of what is happening around them, no idea what they are in the middle of?”

“I can’t.” Derek shakes his head. “I just want to go back to how it used to be, okay? Before all this---“

“Hale.” Argent says almost softly, shaking his head. “You can’t.”

Derek stares in Chris eyes, looking for the hatred that was once there, looking for the man who hated his every gut.

Argent just stares.

 

*

 

Derek sits in silence, thinking over everything Argent has told him, knowing that no matter what, he wants nothing to do with anything involving this crazy world. He’s done, he can’t image how he would live if he had to go through this every single day.

A loud gasp pulls him back.

“She’s awake!” Noah shouts.

Derek’s head snaps up.

“Derek! Derek’s! She’s up!”

Jumping to his feet, he rushes down the platform, over to the gasping body. “Jennifer?”

He stops in front of her, taking in the way her body is losing its translucency, slowly returning to that smooth pale tone, red bloody veins runs across her exposed skin but Derek doesn’t care.

“Jen? Hey, honey? Can you hear me?”

She looks over to him, her lips tugging up slightly. “I- I had a dream about you.”

A wide smile breaks across Derek’s face as he laughs. He looks over to Noah, to see the man smiling sadly at him, nodding as if he knew Derek is silently thanking him.

Not wasting anytime, they get Jen back to the hospital here she can be watched, where her recovery can be properly monitored. They have her placed in a room and after Derek is positive that she is in safe hand, he rushes back to her apartment to get her a change of clothes, knowing how much she hates hospitals and that something comfortable to wear will help feel more at ease.

Derek walks down the hall, feeling fresh from the three-minute shower he took and at ease for the first time in a while, he makes his way to the front desk on the floor where Jen is being held.

“A change of clothes for Agent Blake.” He greets the nurse, holding up the plastic bag.

A doctor walks up to him, the same doctor who assured him Jen was going to fine. “Her vitals are surprisingly strong.”

Derek can’t help but smile at the news. “That’s great. How long does she have to stay?”

“Until the melanocytes in her skin have regenerated but that shouldn’t be more than a week.” The doctor smiles at him as they near the area where they are holding Jen. “She owes you her life.”

Derek laughs quietly as his eyes land on Jen, who lays fast asleep in one of the bed as a nurses looks her over. “We owe each other.”

A small beat of silence falls between them before a thought occurs to Derek.

“What room is Daehler in?”

Walking into down the hall where the doctor pointed, Derek moves to the quiet cubical, pulling back the curtain.

The moment his eyes land on Derek he starts talking. “I told you everything I knew. I gave you the names of all the synthetics I used in the compounds.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Don’t worry, our immunity agreement holds. But there is still a lot we have to talk about. Like why you killed your own brother… And who you’re selling you’re work to.”

Daehler cocks an eyebrow. “Who says I was selling it?”

Derek stares at him.

The injured man sighs. “I got a call and was threatened by someone in your office.”

Derek raises his chin but makes no further comment.

“You think I’m lying?”

“Yes.”

Daehler cocks his head to the side with a cocky look on his face. “I can prove it. I recorded the conversation.”

“Where’s the recording?” Derek asks, his green eyes darkening with anger.

“I buried it.”

 

*

 

Derek trudges through the thick snow, walking down the small gateway where he and Stiles had arrested Daehler. He remember Daehler’s instructions, following the path set out for him. He doesn’t have to walk far, he finds the wooden barrel, grabs onto the rim, shifting it just a bit before tilting it to the side, leaving it fall to the snow covered ground.

Derek bends down, and starts digging through the dirt with his latex covered hands.

_You will find it under the wooden barrel on the right side, you don’t have to dig far. It’s in a plastic bag._

As Derek digs and as the cold icy air bites at his cheeks, he feels a small irrational hope build inside of him. Hope that Daehler was just screwing with him, that one some from the FBI isn’t working with him, that some who he trusted, that someone who he maybe knows, didn’t betray him.

But… He finds it.

A small gazette tape, along with a passport. His lungs burn and Derek straightens up, turning away and walking towards his car. He gets in, his mind buzzing with questions, going on and on and on.

_It’s can’t be._

_Who is it?_

_Why do this?_

_Who is it?_

_What now?_

He finds his recorder that he keeps in his glove compartment, and pushes the tape with frozen fingers in, having gotten rid of the latex ones. He rewinds, going to the starts.

Immediately a voice speaks.

_“Who is this?”_

He recognises Daehler’s voice.

“We had an exchange agreement…”

No… It can’t be. The voice that replies is sharp, the high pitched tone letting him know it’s female. But it’s can’t be…

_“Mm,” Daehler hums. “There have been other bidders. Today, the airplane, was just a demonstrations.”_

_“You have drawn unwarranted attention, something we can’t afford to be connected with...”_

Derek feels sick. He’s takes in deep calm breaths, to try and get his body to work as the female voice answers. He feels dizzy, his blood is rushing, trying to get to all it’s necessary organs while Derek’s lungs refuse to work. No matter how many breathes he tries to take, he’s lungs contract, shoving the air out and blocking any clean air from coming in.

_“… You’re not selling it to anyone else, do you understand me? You do that, we will come after you. I will come after you.”_

Derek swallows the bile that rises in his throat.

_“You’re threatening me.” Daehler drawls. “After seeing what I am willing do to do to my own brother?”_

_“Well, let me assure you, we’d be happy to treat you as family too.”_

And that is it.

That one line, causes a flood of memories to break through.

Telling Jen he loves her at their motel.

Getting a call about the flight 627.

Leaving Jen, to go home and change before driving to Logan International Airport.

Talking to Argent, getting permission to get on the flight after Jen and Erica where already assigned it.

But… Only one memory sticks…

Arriving at the airport before Jen, getting information about the flight from Erica, and then Jen arriving.

He remember, her getting out with a phone pressed against her air. He remember her telling him it was a The NTSB… But Derek remembers how angry she sounded while talking on the phone.

He remembers what she said:

_Well… Let me assure you… We’d be happy to treat you as family too._

He starts the car. The tires kicks back soil and snow as he speeds away from the crime scene. He tried to calm his body down, trying to push the sick feeling and the urge to cry down, anything to not think about this.

He can’t think about her.

He is going after a suspect. A Caucasian. Brunette. 5’6.

He calls Erica. “I need two agents posted outside Agent Blake’s room now. Check of Daehler. I’m five minutes away.”

“On it.”

Her lack of questioning, eases him just a bit. A bit.

He pulls near the front entrance, getting out of the car.

He runs up the hospital doors.

He hears a car’s tires screeching in the distance.

Spinning around, Derek looks towards the direction of the sound.

Their eyes lock. He sees the shock in them even from where he is standing. Tires whine loudly as she turns the wheels and drives off. Derek runs towards his car, speaking into the Walkie-Talkie as he gets closer.

“This is Hale. Agent ID 63887 in pursuit of blue SUV, heading south on Fenway. Need immediate assist."

Derek speeds after, over taking the car on the road. He keeps his eyes on the SUV, watching as it makes a sharp right. Derek follows, his hands gripping the steering wheel, forcing his mind to focus on the road, on the car, on the cars on the road, trying to keep his attention on everything but the name of the person he is chasing.

He hears the loud wailing of sirens from assisting officers.

They reach a tunnel, and the suspect goes in.

Derek follows.

He sees the car reach the end, and he follows. The sound of metal smashing against metal outside the tunnel reaches him and he knows the SUV has hit another car.

When he reaches the end, he see the SUV in the distance, driving under a bridge. He speeds after her, making a sharp turn. His tail slides on the slick road but Derek gets it under control.

Officers follow after him.

He sees the car, coming closer to it.

The SUV does right and left, trying to cut him off.

He speeds into the small opening, next to her. Speeding up until he right next to her.

He looks over the driver’s side window. And she is already looking at him.

The moment his car is at length with hers, it jerks to side, slamming against his.

Derek jerks in shock, his body lunging against the door from the impact.

She does it again.

And again.

Derek look away, seeing the black and blue barrels up ahead, and the metal construction poles behind them.

And he’s heading right towards it.

He brakes just as she moves away to slam against him one more. He turns the car around, trying to get away and on the other side of the road.

He watches as the blue SUV, races ahead, tried squealing as brakes are applied but it is too late. The SUV continues on, smashing onto the barrels, the momentum lifting it up, it goes through the metal construction poles behind the barrels, turning around on its side before falling on the barrels behind the site, twirling, each side of the car, slamming against the road.

Slam.

Slam.

Slam.

Terrified, Derek rushes out of his car, his feet pounding against the road as the car turns and lands on its head, remain there. He heart beats faster, worry coursing through his veins.

He sees her crawl out of the broken driver’s side window. He falls to his knees beside her, grabbing the back of her neck for support.

She gurgles, her face read, blood coating her mouth, teeth, lips and forehead. She gasps wetly, falling against Derek’s knees and Derek brings her closer to him.

Punctured lung.

He wants to speak, but he can’t seem to open his mouth.

She turns around slowly, painfully. Her bloody hand comes up to grab onto the collar of his coat.

“As-Ask yourself,” She gasps, her brown eyes wide as she stares up at him. “Why… Why you?” She takes in a hard breathe, “Why-Why A-Argent sent-sent you… To the storage facility.”

Derek shakes his head, not understand anything.

“Why you?” Jen gasps, her hand gripping to his coat with all her might, pulling him closer.

“I don’t understand!” Derek shouts. He sees her eyes becoming unfocused, her breathing becoming wetter, more labored. “Jennifer, who are you working for?” He asks in the hopes that it will keep her awake.

Her face turns blue, her eyes turns cold, the brown color losing its warmth… and light.

“JEN!”

 

*

 

The car ride is silent. Erica keeps on glancing at him as he starts blankly out the window.

“I knew her just as long as you did.” She says. “I’m sorry.”

Derek clenches his jaw, swallowing his words.

She continues, her voice soft and understanding. “The job isn’t what it was 10 years ago. We’re supposed to protect a world when one breath of the wrong air can incinerate you from the inside out. I mean, how do we protect people when corporations, like Advanced Division, have high security clearances than we do? When we’re not fully briefed on half the things we’re investigating?”

Derek lets her words wash over him. He knows she’s right.

He knows every word she is saying is true.

He thinks about how little he knew of the case, how everything came out in the open when Argent spoke to him, told him about the pattern…

“The truth is… We’re obsolete.”

And they are. But… for the first time, after all the cases he has worked and with the knowledge that there is more out there that is unsolved. With the knowledge that although he caught her and the case is closed, he still knows nothing.

The only time he has ever known what he is truly dealing with has been when Argent came clean.

With that thought, Derek knows what needs to be done.

He knows that regardless of the empty feeling inside of him. The betrayal he feels from Agent Blake’s actions, that there is a chance for him to get the answers to all the questions he has.

Finally, he speaks up. “Take me back to the lab.”

 

*

 

As Erica pulls up outside Harvard, he sees the front doors open and Stiles stepping out. In a long black coat, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a scarf wrapped around his neck. His shoulders are hunched, as if trying to trap in the heat the scarf and coat is providing.

Noah follows after him. Stiles gives him a glance over his shoulders… something he would never have done before this case.

Derek gets out, rushing over to Stiles as he descends the stairs out front, his eyes locking onto Derek and his dark brows pulling together in confusion.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Can I talk you for a second?” Derek asks, his body pulsing with knowledge of what he is about to do. About what he is about asks…

“Sure,” Stiles nodes before turning around.

Noah is walking behind him and Stiles lifts up a hand as if to stop him. “Noah, stay here. I’ll be back in sec.”

Derek walks further away, and Stiles follows, half turned towards him and half facing back, his hand still out. He only drops his hand fully turns to regard Derek once Noah has stopped on the second last step.

Derek wastes no time and speaks up, “Listen, I am sure you are anxious to get away from this place as fast and as far as possible. To Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever other places you can reach but I am here to tell you that your father need to stay,” He rambles, running his gloved hands through his hair, trying to calm his body does.

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowing as he looks at Derek.

Derek continues. “And if your father is staying, it means that you need to… Too.”

Derek knows he is jittery and his words sounds scrambled. Stiles takes a step forward, his arms dropping.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Derek ignores the question. “Now I know that you have many reasons, countless of them, as to why this is a nonstarter for you, okay I know that, but, uh, your father, he is a good man. He’s not the monster you think he is and you’re good with him despite what you might think. And you’re the only one who speaks Noah.” Derek takes in a deep breath. “If-if we take him back to St. Claire’s , it is all over.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Derek…” He looks around. “Where’s Jennifer?”

Derek ignores him. He need to get this all out. He needs to tell Stiles all the points, all the reasons he could possible need to stay.

“The FBI, I can talk to the agency and get them to clear your gambling debts—“

“I can clear my debts, okay.” Stiles cuts him off. “Now what happened? Where is Jennifer?”

The way he asks, softly and slowly causes Derek to calm down just a bit, his feel his rapid breathing slowing down, his pounding heart lowering its rate.

Derek swallows. “I am not going to use false threats with you anymore. I don’t need to.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, looking at him with curiosity and that looks makes it easier to believe that he is Noah Stilinski’s son.

“The threats are real,” Derek says.

Stiles licks his lips, his tongue moving and then pushing against his inner cheek before he answers. “After you left, Noah sat down and started talking to me… And he was remarkable lucid. He told me about the work that he and Alan Deaton had done, their experiments and that incident, that what happened on the plan is just the beginning. Which makes every part of me eager to get the hell out of dodge.”

Derek swallows, seeing the certainty in Stiles’ eyes, the way his body even through his coat is tensed up. He knows that he has no reason to ask this of Stiles and he feels guilty, using his father and the promise to pay his debts as a way to persuade him as if he can be that easily manipulated.

“Are we leaving?” A soft voice asks.

Stiles looks at Derek for a second before turning around to look at Noah. The man stands shivering in his brown woollen coat. He sounds scared, his hands are clasped in front of his chest, his arm pressed tightly against his sides.

“Are we leaving?” He asks again.

Derek gives him a look, raises his eyebrows, ducking his head just a bit in question when Stiles turn to look back at him. The guarded look he has in his eyes tells him nothing but Stiles holds eye contact just a bit before he closes his eyes, his eyeball moving around behind his eyelids as he clearly rolls them.

He shakes his head, turning to look back at Noah again. His shoulders sag as he looks at Derek.

Relief floods through Derek.

The corner of Stiles lips tug up. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

Derek, regardless of the events that occurred just a few hours ago, feel his lips tug up into a smile, a small one, as Stiles lets out a loud sigh before turning around.

“Come on, Noah.” He shouts, walking towards his father. “Let’s find a Hotel, I need some sleep?"

“So we are not leaving then?” His father asks eagerly.

“What do you think?” Stiles says with a snarky tone as he gently takes Noah’s arm, guiding him towards the Black SUV’s.

Noah smiles widely. “Excellent. Do you think we could get something to drink? I have a craving for a Root Beer Float.”

Stiles turns to glare at Derek, though there is no heat in it at all.

“Sure,” He sighs tiredly. “Why the heck not. You want to come with Agent Hale?”

The use of the word Agent, lets Derek know that during the course of the time together, Derek has gained some of Stiles’ respect. Derek can only hope, that respect will be enough for Stiles to continue working with him, so that Noah can help Derek obtain the answers he needs.

Derek shakes his head at Stiles question.

Stiles narrows his eyes, the worry reflecting in them before he nods and climbs in after Noah.

Time will only tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any mistakes... any mistakes are my own.


End file.
